


These Things, They Happen

by threequarters



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-25
Updated: 2010-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threequarters/pseuds/threequarters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But like most things Rodney-related in his life, the result was very different from his theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Things, They Happen

**Author's Note:**

> For flordeneu's Urban Legend Slash Challenge back in early 2006. My legand was: Bride-to-be sends over-the-top list of instructions to her attendants. A million thanks to torakowalski (who gently nudged me into SGA in the first place) for the amazing beta (and for reminding me to breathe). And thanks to M who is always there, every damn step of the way.
> 
> It's been several years now since I wrote this and I'm not entirely happy with how I did it. Frankly, I think the parenthetical asides are distracting and while they make sound in my head like I wanted it to, I'm not sure they work written out. I was tempted to go back and poke at this some more, but I've decided to let it stand as it is. Call it a learning experience.

He didn't think about it, not really.

It wasn't like he was carving hearts in the wall out on Pier 3, or tracing Rodney's name over and over on his datapad.

But sometimes at night he'd think maybe, _maybe_ if they lived through everything, if they survived the Wraith and somehow managed to adjust to a slower lifestyle...

Those times he'd think about something small. Nothing major, just some friends, a small ceremony. No hearts and flowers – they'd never been about hearts and flowers – just a little something to say "we're here, we made it," a little something to share with their closest friends.

But like most things Rodney-related in his life, the result was very different from his theory.

How it actually happened was this:

John was in the infirmary with a concussion, courtesy of a rather rough landing in a jumper. Rodney was at the Alpha site bitching (with a side order of working).

And while John generally had issues with members of his team (Rodney) going off without the rest of the group (him), it was only the Alpha site and he was pretty much useless at this point. Not to mention, that while watching Rodney throw things and make people cry was usually one of his favorite past times, it certainly was no cure for the monumental headache he was nursing. Of course the Alpha site was still in the Pegasus galaxy which meant there was still a good chance of something going horribly wrong.

Which, of course, it did.

So when the gate finally activated – after a tense several hours involving a Genii attack, a hostage situation, and three dead marines – and Rodney walked through looking bruised and tired, but generally okay, John wasted no time dragging him back to his quarters for "some serious bed rest" (hot, life-reaffirming sex).

And the things he said ("never again," "couldn't stand to lose you," "forever," etc.) while he kissed down Rodney's chest (Rodney's hands fisted in his hair) could most likely be blamed on his bump on his head coupled with the hours and hours he spent feeling so fucking useless.

They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs, but when John woke up the next morning, Rodney wasn't in bed with him. A day or so of being held hostage on another planet followed by mind-blowing sex would be enough to make most people take the day off. It would be enough to make most people at least sleep in.

Once again, Rodney McKay was proving that he wasn't most people.

Instead of still being snug and warm in bed, he was at John's desk, hunched over a laptop. Every few minutes he'd let out a pensive "mmm" or "huh."

"Oh good, you're awake. Listen, I need to know what day works best for you. I've already shot an e-mail to Elizabeth. We need to pick a date and figure out what we need right away so we can compile a list for the _Daedelus_." Rodney spoke without even looking up at John.

"Umm..."

"Listen, I figure three months. That'll give the _Daedelus_ enough time to make its trip, and provide us enough wiggle room in case a crisis arises, which it inevitably will. That's what? July? I know it's traditional to wait longer, but it's not like we need to book a reception hall and I certainly don't need to have a dress made."

What John was hearing was not gelling with his brain. Reception? Rodney in a dress? "Rodney? What the hell are you..."

Now Rodney was close to pouting (chin out, indignant tone). "Listen, I know you're popular, but you can't possibly tell me you're booked straight through July. Besides, I'd like to think you'd be willing to juggle your schedule a bit for our wedding."

"Wedding?"

And that was how John and Rodney got engaged.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
When the initial shock wore off, John took the time to freak out about all the possible ways things could go wrong (inattention in the field), and all the possible repercussions (don't ask, don't tell).

To Elizabeth's credit, she seemed to take it in stride. Hell, all of Atlantis seemed to take it in stride. In fact, John noticed more than a few people shooting him sympathetic looks; everyone seemed to understand what it was like once the Rodney steamroller got going.

And going he certainly was.

In two days he'd sent John something like four-dozen e-mails. Food, vows, _rings_. It was really far more than John had ever wanted to think about. So he pretty much chose to ignore the whole ordeal and let Rodney take the lead (like usual).

Which worked spectacularly well for approximately one month.

But then Rodney asked, "Who is going to be in your party?" while in bed one night, pouring over something that might have been the schematics for a ZPM – or possibly the seating arrangement for the reception.

"My party?" John asked, only half paying attention.

"Yes," Rodney replied slowly, using his 'duh!' voice – which was not to be confused with his 'you're a fucking moron' voice, or (John's personal favorite) his 'God hates me and therefore has surrounded me with idiots' voice.

"I'm having a party?" John asked, truly confused now.

"Your _wedding_ party," and there was the 'fucking moron' voice. Which, in retrospect, was a great deal more endearing when aimed at someone else. "You know, you have people stand with you, I have people stand with me. It's a pretty traditional wedding thing. Oh god, please tell me you've been to a wedding before..."

"Easy Rodney, I've been to plenty of weddings," John replied (buying time). His brain was trying desperately to deal with the fact that Rodney seemed to want him to have _bridesmaids_.

"Good. I've already spoken with Zelenka and Carson, who have both agreed to stand with me. I assumed you'd probably ask Teyla and Ronon."

And if John had ever desired concrete proof that Rodney was batshit crazy, he got it in that moment.

Rodney wanted him to ask Ronon to be a _bridesmaid_.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
As it turned out, Ronon was probably more excited about the whole thing than John. 

He'd been so worried about confronting him - worried about facing Ronon's wrath if he asked (and Rodney's if he didn't). He knew Teyla would be a piece of cake, so he asked her first. She'd just smiled and told him she'd be honored.

Teyla was an amazing individual of remarkable depths. But seriously? Sometimes she could be so predictable...and for that John was extremely grateful.

So with Teyla confirmed, he felt like he was justified in putting off asking Ronon for a few days. A few days during which he noticed Ronon shooting him odd looks during meetings and in the mess hall. At first he was worried maybe Ronon had heard and was pissed.

Which it turned out he was.

Except Ronon was pissed (pouty) because John _hadn't_ asked him yet.

So John asked him and then stumbled off back to his quarters because he'd had more than his fair share of weird for the day. And considering some of the weird-ass situations he'd found himself in during his time in the Pegasus galaxy, that was saying a lot.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Nice, normal, routine post mission medical exam. Except – 

"Tell me you have seen this," Radek demanded, stomping into the infirmary (too much time around Rodney...) and waving a sheet of paper in Carson's face.

"Aye, I got mine this morning." And John knew (in the pit of his stomach) what Zelenka's outrage probably had to do with.

"How can he – it is just not – Colonel, you have got to stop him!" Zelenka begged, and John _so_ didn't want to get involved. And since when did they think he had any control over Rodney?

"What's going on?" He asked, more out of politeness (morbid curiosity) than anything. Zelenka shoved a piece of paper into his face. John had to read it three times before the words sunk in.

"Instructions? He gave you a list of _instructions_?" Except John knew Rodney and these weren't so much instructions for his groomsmen as they were demands.

"Yes. Instructions." Zelenka was clearly not amused. Carson was being tactful and staying out of it, drawing a sample of John's blood and hurrying off with it.

John read over the list again. "Well, these don't seem too bad..." And they didn't. Sure there were a few oddball requests, and a few that employed (hard to follow) Rodney-logic. But mostly they were fairly reasonable.

"This is page one, Colonel." And boy, could Zelenka be scary when he was pissed.

"Of...?"

"Twelve."

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
"All I'm saying is, you should maybe cut them some slack," John was fighting a loosing battle and he knew it. Frankly, he knew he was an idiot for even entering the fray to begin with.

"A woman's wedding should be the most magical moment of her young life," Rodney stated indignantly.

John stared. It was really very hard to do battle with an opponent who was crazy. But he had to try, he'd promised (scary) Zelenka he'd at least do that much.

"Better than when you got all those degrees? Better than that time on M5X-329 with Ronon and that pig-creature? Better than coming to, you know, the _Lost City of Atlantis_ through a _wormhole_?"

Radek brushed past, leaning towards John conspiratorially. "Also, he is not a woman."

"Also! You are not a woman," John stated triumphantly, only realizing a full few seconds after it had left his mouth just how stupid he sounded.

"Oh, thank you for being so backwards and narrow-minded, Colonel Nineteenth Century," Rodney snapped.

"Backwards? Narrow minded? You're the one that just said a woman's wedding should be the most magical day of her life!" 

Well, Zelenka would have to give him credit for trying.

And he'd just have to hope like hell he had hot water the next time he went to shower.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Rodney backed off a little (a little) when the list got posted on the network and quickly made its way around Atlantis (Zelenka was evil). The revised version was only eight pages. Zelenka was still pissed as hell, but he'd stopped muttering (Czech death threats) under his breath.

But as the big (and scary) day approached, Rodney became too absorbed in his own personal freak out to really pay attention to whether or not his groomsmen were following their work out schedule ("I don't want you to be buff and make me look bad, but let's be honest, you both could stand to lose a few pounds") or taking their vitamins ("I don't want you sneezing and sniffling through my vows").

When the day finally did arrive, Zelenka still had all of his wild hair, but Carson had at least managed a nice close shave.

For all the anticipation and months of build up, the day passed almost disappointingly fast (but the food was good). John found the whole event rather anti-climactic (except for the post-ceremony sex). But Rodney had enjoyed himself immensely (there was _cake_) and was finally starting to relax after the ordeal of planning the whole thing. In the end John figured he should at least be flattered by all the pomp and circumstance. Rodney was often obsessive and controlling, but rarely did it have to do with something outside of the lab.

To have it peripherally focused on him was kind of fun (in a round about sort of way).

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
**One year later:**

Married life was sweet – guaranteed sex, bigger quarters, nicer bed, no more sneaking around – John was really digging the whole thing.

He tried to explain it to Rodney one night, lying in bed all afterglowy "You know, it's weird. I find myself wanting all those things in life I never thought I would. Never pictured myself as a happily married, house in the suburbs, 2.5 kids, SUV kind of guy. But here I am, already set on the happily married part. It's just really weird."

The last thing John felt as he drifted of was the soft rumble Rodney's pensive "hmmm" made in his chest where John was resting his head.

The first thing John felt on waking up was a slight stinging on his head, like someone was plucking out a few hairs. But it was really very slight and his bed was really very warm, so he just turned over and went back to sleep.

The next time John woke up Rodney was hunched over his laptop.

"Listen, I need you to draw up a list of names."

"Names?"

"Yes. Names. We're not going to know the gender for a few more weeks yet. The device is sophisticated, but not that sophisticated." Rodney was clearly very intent on what he was working on, not bothering to look up.

"Device?" Why did John have that (horrible, twisting) feeling in his gut that he desperately didn't want to know where the conversation was headed?

John's cluelessness was enough to get Rodney to look away from his laptop. "Yes, device. You know, the one Simpson stumbled upon last month. Carson has been dying to test it on humans, but well, you can imagine the ethical implications. This seems like a legitimate way to give it a try though, so I ran our hair samples down to him this morning."

Oh _god_.

"So while we won't know the gender of the baby for a while yet, I still think we should start compiling our lists – John? John are you okay?"

But John was really too busy smothering himself with a pillow to answer.


End file.
